Siren Song
by Rat-chan
Summary: Harry comes home to Perry drugged and traumatized after disappearing for 4 days. Perry has to find out what happened Harry and help him recover. Angst & friendship genres also apply. Not too slashy. Rating for language and adult themes. Pts 2&3 added.
1. Part 1

******Disclaimer**: Yeah, so kiss kiss, bang bang belongs to a bunch of people, none of whom are me.

**Warnings**: bad language, references to drug use and other criminal activity

**Summary**: For this prompt:  
_Harry/Perry. Harry gets drugged with some extremely addictive stuff by a bad guy, and Perry takes it upon himself to help Harry go through the process of detoxing.  
How their relationship is (established, not established) prior to the drugging incident is up to you, as long as it ends with a worn out Harry and Perry cuddling at the end of the detox._

**Author's Notes**: So, yeah, I took this on even though I know very little about drugs and detoxing. Sheltered life? In that respect, yes. Anyway, I did some rudimentary research and have tried to make this as realistic as possible. If there are any glaring inaccuracies, please point them out.  
**  
Some preliminary references**:  
Photophobia (literally "fear of light") is a symptom of many things (I've experienced it many times with migraines, Harry will experience it here as a side effect of drugs) in which light causes the sufferer physical pain.  
Perry will reference Patty Hearst and Timothy Leary. If you don't know who they are, please google them after reading, but for now suffice it to say that Patty Hearst is synonymous with Stockholm Syndrome and Timothy Leary is synonymous with LSD.

**Additional disclaimer**: The writer does not endorse or condone the use of illegal drugs or the abuse of prescription drugs. Just say no, kids!

* * *

Perry was awakened from the fitful doze he had finally managed to fall into by the sound of the doorbell. He jolted out of his bed and ran down the stairs to the front door. Without bothering to look through the peephole, he unlocked the door and jerked it open.

"Harry!" he called. And sure enough, there was his assistant and housemate, sitting on the doormat. "Harry?" he repeated as the smaller man remained huddled in front of the door, rocking back and forth.

"I'm so cold. I didn't think it got cold in LA, but I'm so cold." Perry had never heard Harry's voice sound so small and so very young. "I just want to go home."

"Harry," Perry said a third time, crouching down, "you _are_ home."

"Just wanna go home... Home..."

Perry reached out to touch his assistant's trembling shoulder, but Harry recoiled as soon as he made contact. "Har-"

"Hey, you this guy's brother or something?" A man's voice called from the street. There was a taxi stopped, motor still running, half pulled into their driveway. The driver stood by the open door of the cab, looking irritatedly at Perry. "I need my fare."

With another concerned glance at Harry, Perry grabbed his wallet from the side table just inside the door, then went over to the taxi. "Where did you pick him up?"

"He hailed me from some alley off Sunset in Hollywood. 25 dollars," the cabbie put in, pointing to the meter. "He was so strung out, I wanted to take him to the police, but he started crying and begging me to take him to Perry and promising that Perry would give me a big tip. He could barely tell me the address," the man grumbled.

"OK, thank you. Here's your fare." Perry handed him a twenty and a five. Then, he handed him a hundred. "This Benjy apologizes most sincerely for any inconvenience you may have experienced tonight. And this Benjy," he handed the driver another hundred, giving the man also his most serious and beseeching look, "asks you to forget _that_ man," he pointed to Harry, "the name Perry, and the address of this house."

"Well, dear me. I seem to have gotten lost," the cabbie drawled, slipping the bills into his pocket. "I'd better get back to base. Good night, sir."

"Drive safely." Perry watched the taxi drive off and then he rushed back to Harry, who was still rocking himself on the porch. "Chief," he called softly.

It seemed to register. "Perry?" He looked up at his boss, hopefully.

"No, you moron, it's the fucking Easter Bunny." His sarcasm sounded weak in his own ears.

But Harry smiled, kind of. "It _is_ Perry. Thank God. Perry, I want to go home."

"You are home, idiot." With each unkind epithet, Harry seemed to relax a bit. "Now stand up so we can get you inside."

"I'm cold, Perry."

"That's because you're sitting on concrete, shitwit. Now let's get inside."

"Shitwit," Harry actually laughed. "That one's my favorite." He held up his hand for Perry to help him up.

"I'll get you a T-shirt for your birthday," the P.I. promised as he helped his assistant up and into the house. Dozens of questions circled in his brain, demanding access to his voice, but they were all going to have to wait.

Still, one question would not leave him alone.

_Harry, where the fuck have you been?_

_**--One week ago--**_

_  
"You want me to go undercover?" Harry asked his boss, disbelief radiating from his entire body. "You want _me_ to go _Undercover_?"_

"_No," Perry answered, "I don't _want_ you to go undercover, but it's, unfortunately, the best option remaining to us."_

"_Why?"_

"_Were you listening at all, moron? The clients' representative said the case was in…" He held his hand out, palm up, in Harry's direction._

"_West Hollywood."_

"_And we are investigating…"_

"_Gay bars and clubs."_

"_Where…"_

"_Um, there are a lot of pink, fruity cocktails and men wearing make-up?"_

"_No, dumbass, where almost everybody fucking knows who Gay Perry is."_

"_Right. Are you famous or _infamous_?"_

"_Not that it's at all important at this particular moment, but both, I'll have you know. Now, tell me what you remember from the clients' request."_

"_Um… We, or I, go undercover in the club scene and find out whatever we can about some new party drug that's going around."_

"_Good." Perry nodded in a rare show of approval. "Anything else?"_

"_Yeah – a question."_

"_Shoot."_

"_Actually, two questions. One: why is it such a problem? And two: why not go to the police?" Harry looked genuinely puzzled._

"_I'll answer question two first. The clients are a group of club and bar owners. They don't necessarily follow the letter of the law in all their business practices. They're also not going to call the police on this one because it's very bad publicity."_

"_Okaaay. What about question one? I don't see why party drugs at dance clubs are a problem. It happens all the time, right?"_

"_The problem__**s**__ this time, Chief, are that the drug in question seems to be new, seems to originate in West Hollywood – they haven't seen it anywhere else – and some of the shadier establishments seem to have it on their menu."_

"_Shit. I thought that guy said these things were like Quaaludes. My friend Ritchie's dad used to take that shit all the time and he once told me how he nearly died when he took them with alcohol."_

"_Well, whatever this new variety is, it apparently dissolves in alcohol like Quaaludes and has most of the same effects, but does not have as deadly an interaction with alcohol."_

"_Well then, what's the biggie? Quaaludes used to be legal."_

"_The 'biggie' as you put it, is that it is about three times as addictive as ordinary Quaaludes or __quinazolinone class drugs." Perry ignored Harry's bewildered look as he tried to process the five syllable word. "And, like I said, some of the less mainstream establishments are serving the drug in a cocktail they call a Siren."_

"_Like a police siren?" Harry continued to look confused._

"_Yes, because that's just what people like in a club. Idiot. A siren was a beautiful woman in Greek mythology, who sang men to their deaths."_

"_Whatever. So, what am I supposed to do?"_

"_Well, your cover is that you are a recently divorced man who has finally decided to accept your sexuality and come out of the closet."_

"_Shit. I was afraid it'd be something like that. What else?" Harry asked mock fearfully._

"_You want to enjoy your gay lifestyle, but you're nervous about your first time. Don't look at me like that! It makes you a perfect candidate for some 'helpful' person to offer you a Siren."_

"_Perry, I've barely even smoked pot. I—"_

"_You are under no circumstances to _take_ the drug! And don't drink _anything_ you haven't seen the bartender make." Perry grabbed Harry's chin and looked straight into his eyes. "I'm serious Harry. This could be dangerous for you. Your only job is to quietly find the joints that serve Sirens and quietly tell me so that I can quietly go to the police and have this all quietly cleaned up."_

"_Quiet, right. You know that's not my strong suit—" they shared a smile, "—but I'll do my best."_

"_I know you will, Chief."_

_**-- --**_

Perry could still remember the full, bright smile Harry had beamed at that rare show of confidence in his abilities. Perry had been remembering that smile – and worrying about its owner – constantly for the last four days – from the moment Harry had disappeared from a West Hollywood nightclub, to the moment he had reappeared on their porch.

He looked at the man now huddled on their sofa, wrapped in an afghan. Harry had not said anything since he had been brought inside, but at odd moments he would hum snatches of a tune that Perry did not recognize. It was incongruously cheerful.

"Harry?" Perry called out, moving closer to the sofa. "Do you want a glass of water? Are you hungry?" Harry looked weak and from the raspy hints in his voice, was probably dehydrated. "Chief?"

"It's dark in here," Harry complained with a shudder. "It's too dark." Perry had not bothered to turn on a light. The ambient light creeping in between the blinds and through the curtains had been enough to see by. "Please, it's too dark." Panic was beginning to tinge Harry's voice.

"Relax, Chief, I'll get the lights." Perry went over to the wall and flipped the switch. "There."

But Harry was hiding his face in the afghan. "Too bright. Hurts," he whimpered.

_Shit._ Perry swiftly slid the dimmer down until only a soft glow filled the living room. _Photophobia. I was afraid of that._ He moved back to the sofa, and reached out to his housemate, but again, Harry cringed away from his touch. "It's okay Harry, it's me, Perry." He continued to make soothing noises as he took Harry's chin in his hand and looked into his eyes. It was hard to tell in the low light, but the pupils might have been over dilated. Perry could also feel soft tremors shaking the smaller man's body. He moved his hands to one of Harry's and he softly pressed a fingernail into the index finger. He increased the pressure until it ought to be starting to hurt, but Harry did not seem to feel it at all.

_Those sons of bitches, _Perry thought, though he did not yet know who they were. _They've been drugging him! Bastards!_ Harry seemed to sense his boss's anger and he withdrew his hand and huddled in the afghan again. "Shush, shh… It's alright. I'm going to get you a drink of water."

There was no response as Perry strode into their kitchen. He pulled a glass out of the cupboard and took it to the sink. He filled it from the filtrating tap and set it down on the counter. Then, he leaned over the sink, taking deep breaths to calm himself. He stared abstractedly at the small pile of dirty dishes that filled the steel basin. He had not washed the dishes for a couple of days, but then again, he had not eaten much.

He had been afraid of this. Maybe it was not the scenario he had feared most, but it was fucking bad enough.

After Harry had disappeared, Perry had discreetly combed West Hollywood, searching for any traces. He had not dared to move too openly or to go to the police. Either of those courses of action might have gotten Harry killed if he had been taken by the bad guys. And, as Perry had investigated, all faint indications seemed to point to that possibility.

His mind moved back to the present and filled with the image of Harry as he was now. _God damn it!_ Perry slammed his fists down on the rim of the sink, rattling the dishes inside. It seemed now that the bad guys _had_ gotten to Harry. Gotten to him and drugged him with whatever shit it was they were peddling.

Now Perry was left with a big problem and a lot of questions. Who were the bad guys and why and where had they taken Harry? Did they know who Harry was? Would they be able to trace him here? Did they know Harry was gone and were they even now clearing out of their den?

How bad was Harry's condition?

The clients had said the drug was highly addictive, but even so, four days would not be long enough for true addiction to set in. Even at high doses, which it seemed likely they had given Harry, physical dependence was unlikely. But psychological dependence?

Perry sighed and picked up the glass of water. _One fucking thing at a time._

"Harry, I brought you some water." Harry was right where Perry had left him. He was humming again and singing softly at odd moments. _Alice in Wonderland?_ Perry was bewildered, but that would have to wait. "Come on, Chief, drink."

Harry obediently took the glass and emptied it in a matter of seconds. When he had finished, he lowered the glass and stared into it blankly.

"You want more?"

Harry shook his head. "I want my medicine."

_Fuck_. "What medicine, Harry? You're not taking anything now."

"They gave me pills. The Siren. It was dark and cold there. It hurt." Had those bastards injured Harry? Perry could not see any marks on his assistant's face. "They promised the Siren would sing it all away." Harry frowned. "I didn't want to take it, but they made me. But they didn't lie. It all moved kinda far away. It didn't hurt and I wasn't scared." Harry's face went blank for a moment, but then he frowned again. "But it's wearing off now. The pain and the fear and the dark and the cold are coming back." He began huddling into the afghan again and Perry had to grab the glass before it fell to the floor. He set it on the coffee table and turned back to the sofa.

"Harry, the people who gave you the Sirens -- who were they? Can you remember?"

Harry did not answer. Instead he began softly chanting "Siren'll sing it all away" over and over again.

_Fuck, Patty Hearst meets Timothy Leary_. "Hey, fuckhead. Hello! I'm talking to you." Perry snapped his fingers in front the other man's face.

Harry's gaze popped back to Perry and a scowl covered his features. "Fuck off, Perry. I want my medicine."

Well, that was not good, but it was better. _At least he said "fuck."_ "No. I need you to tell me who gave you the medicine."

"The White Rabbit."

_What the fuck?_ Quaaludes and similar drugs were hypnotics, not hallucinogens. "Were the Mad Hatter and the March Hare there, too?"

"Fuck off. He said to call him the White Rabbit." The brief moment of clarity began to slip away. "He kept chanting 'Siren will sing it all away.'" Harry repeated the phrase in a sing-song voice. "Perry." His eyes were so wide. "I'm so scared. There are voices and shadows and cold, hard hands in the dark. The Siren makes them nice and sings them away. Perry, I need the Siren. They're gonna come back."

"No, they're not. Look around you! You're home -- you're safe."

Harry reached his arms out of the afghan and gripped Perry's shirt. His tremors were so strong, they shook Perry as well. "They'll find me. They found me before and they'll fucking do it again."

_Jesus, what did those assholes do to you?_ He had to get Harry calm again -- had to convince him that he was safe. "Chief." Perry kept his tone soft. "They won't find you here." He put his hands gently over the trembling ones that still gripped his shirt. "You're safe here."

Harry released Perry's shirt and jerked his hands back. "That's what the other man said, but it was a fucking lie."

"What other man?"

"He found me the first time I left the dark room. He told me I'd be safe and I could go home." Harry's eyes unfocused as he shifted into memory. "But he took me back and the White Rabbit told me I was very bad for running away and I had made him late..." Harry's gaze refocused and he scowled again. "Son of a bitch talked to me like I was a fucking child. Not even _you_ talk to me like that." There was Harry! But the angry light soon faded. "They punished me, but then the Siren sang them away."

Perry felt sick. A small corner of his mind whispered that it did not want to know what had happened. "They're not here now, Harry." He sat down next to Harry and put a comforting arm around the smaller man's heaving shoulders. "No one's going to hurt you here. You're safe."

Perry's arm was violently thrown off. "No I'm not!" Harry's voice was filled with panic. "I need the Siren!" He turned towards Perry and pushed the larger man down onto the sofa. "I need the Siren." The tone had changed again, become softer. "You can get it for me, can't you Perry?" The tone was wheedling now.

"I'm not giving you anything, Chief. You don't need it."

"Come on, Perry. I know you can get me my medicine." Harry leaned on top of his boss and looked at him through lowered lashes. "You can get it for me, I know."

"No. I can't and I fucking _won't_."

Harry began to smile, but it only worried Perry more. It was not Harry Lockhart's wry smile. It was... seductive. "You _can_, Perry. Please?" He began worming his way down Perry's body, still smiling. "Pretty please." He put a hand to the waistband of Perry's sweats. "With a cherry on top."

When Harry began pulling the sweats down, Perry pushed him off. "What the fuck are you doing!?"

Harry knelt by the sofa. "Please, Perry." His voice was pleading now. "I'll do anything, but please just give me my medicine."

"No." Perry pushed and held Harry back when the smaller man moved again toward Perry's crotch. "No."

"You want it, don't you? And I want my Siren. Come on, it's fair."

"I don't want it." _Not like this_. "And you don't want it either." Perry pointed at himself. "Gay Perry." Then, he pointed to Harry. "Straight Harry. Remember?"

"I don't _care_! I need my medicine!" Harry clutched Perry's legs, his eyes wide and leaking tears. His tone was pure hysteria. "_I need it!_"

"OK!" Perry shouted, standing up abruptly.

"OK?" Harry stilled.

"I'll get you some medicine. Just sit and wait here."

Harry nodded, still crying. Perry kept an eye on him as he half-backed out of the room. Harry remained rooted on the floor in front of the sofa.

Perry groaned as he walked into their bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. He grabbed a nearly empty prescription bottle.

Seconal. Some drug-happy quack had prescribed it to Harry when he and Perry had first started living and working together. Harry had been having nightmares about the Dexter case. It had gotten so bad that Harry had become unable to sleep for fear of seeing the people he had killed. So the doctor had given him Seconal to help him sleep.

Perry hesitated. _Is this right? Is this giving in?_

But Harry needed some peace. He needed to sleep and get the Siren out of his system.

With a sigh, Perry opened the bottle, took out a pill, and took it back to the living room. Harry was right where he had left him.

"Here's your medicine, Harry."

"That's not a Siren." Harry frowned at the pill.

"No, but it's _your_ medicine and it will help." Harry looked distrustfully at the capsule in his boss's hand. "Trust me, Chief."

"OK." Harry took the Seconal and swallowed it dry. "When will it work?"

"Soon," Perry promised. "Now, come sit with me until it kicks in." Perry sat on the sofa and patted the space next to him.

Harry obeyed. He sat close beside Perry and rested his head on the larger man's shoulder. He was still shaking. Perry put an arm around him and this time he did not fight it.

"It'll work? I'll be safe? They won't find me?"

"I won't let them, Chief." He wrapped his other arm around the trembling man, pulling him against his chest. "I won't fucking let them." He began rocking gently.

Harry began to still. He closed his eyes and released a long, breathy sigh. Not knowing what else to do, Perry continued rocking and moved a hand to stroke Harry's limp, sweaty hair.

"You're OK, Harry. You're safe."

A small sing-song voice came from the trembling lips. "Harry fell down, down, down the rabbit hole..."

"Shh," Perry soothed. He kept rocking and stroking Harry's hair until the exhausted man fell into quiet slumber.

~to be continued~


	2. Part 2

With a sigh, Perry clicked to return his computer to sleep mode. His research on the internet had only made him feel marginally better. He no longer felt guilty about the Seconal (barbiturates were apparently used in Quaalude detox), but the hours (or days) ahead did not seem any less bleak.

For perhaps the fiftieth time since the other man had fallen asleep, his eyes drifted to Harry. He was curled into a ball where Perry had left him on the sofa, deeply asleep.

_What am I supposed to do now? _Perry wondered dismally. He wanted to take care of Harry, but what was the best way? To take him to the hospital? They might call the police… Or worse, the bad guys might track him there.

Should he just take care of Harry's problem by himself? An unaccustomed feeling of self-doubt greeted this question. Even with research, he was not certain he was the best person to help his suffering assistant.

Should he go after the bad guys before they could get away and/or come after Harry? Even if that had not been his job, it needed to be done. Still, Harry could not be left alone in his current state.

A sigh that sounded a lot more like a groan escaped Perry. Pitiful was the only word that could describe Harry as he was right now. He looked so small and young, huddled on the sofa as he was, the pale gray pre-dawn light bleaching his skin to a ghostly shade. Even in barbiturate-induced slumber, he still looked afraid. Sometimes his breath caught as if he were in pain or having a nightmare.

_Both, probably._ Before getting on the internet, Perry had given Harry a thorough looking over to make sure there were no serious injuries. There had not been any, but Harry's body had still been mottled viciously with bruises. It had been difficult to find any unmarked flesh under his clothes.

He had had to steel his nerves, but Perry had checked the other man's lower body as well. Sickly afraid of what he might find and half preferring to remain in doubt, the P.I. had pulled down Harry's underwear with shaking hands. Feeling even more ill at his own violation of Harry's privacy, Perry had examined the sleeping man's bottom.

_Thank God_, he thought for a second time. There had been no sign that Harry had been raped.

Feeling reassured, but guilty, Perry had redressed Harry in clean, soft flannel pajamas before checking the other man's clothes. There was nothing in the pockets, but that was not a serious problem. Harry had been carrying a false ID and cash – no credit cards. After finding no clues in or on the clothes, Perry had headed to the home office space to do his research.

Shaking his head to return it to the present, Perry moved back to the sofa and crouched down beside it. Harry was frowning in his sleep, but he was not making any noise. Perry reached out a hand and lightly stroked the wrinkle between Harry's brows with a thumb. He continued the caress across Harry's forehead down over his temple and the stubbled skin in front of his ears. The sleeping man turned into the touch so that Perry was softly cupping his cheek. Without thinking, the larger man leaned forward and kissed Harry's forehead.

With a quiet, almost inaudible moan, Harry's eyelids began to flutter. Perry leaned back and moved the hand on Harry's face to stroke his head again. "You're OK, Chief," he said softly.

"Perry?" The voice, too, was barely audible and Harry kept his eyes closed.

"Shh, go back to sleep." Perry kept up the light strokes against the dark, lank hair.

"…good idea. 'Sa nice dream."

"You're not dreaming, Harry. I'm here. You're home."

"Uh-uh. Must be a dream. Perry's never this fucking nice in the morning."

"I have a very low tolerance for idiocy before my first cup of coffee."

At this, Harry cracked an eye open and peered at his boss. "That really you?"

Perry stopped the stroking and flicked Harry on the ear. "Real enough, fuckhead?"

"Ow." Harry brought a hand out of the blanket to rub his ear. He opened his eyes and sat up, looking at the man crouching before him. "Perry," the not quite awake man said, his tone a strange sleepy mix of wistful and irritated.

"You should go back to sleep. It's barely dawn."

Harry shook his head vehemently. He looked around the gray-lit living room, his eyes open wide, as if to reassure himself that it was really there. "Thirsty," he complained.

Perry picked up the glass that still sat on the coffee table and handed it to Harry. "Have you forgotten where the kitchen is or are your legs broken?"

"Right," Harry replied in a firmer tone of voice. He stood up shakily, glass in hand and blanket falling to the floor. Perry rose quickly and went to support the quavering man's arm, but Harry flinched away, eyes wide.

_Nice and easy._ "Come on, Chief." Perry ignored the brief incident and slowly, softly took Harry's elbow in hand.

They made their shaky way into the kitchen where Harry managed to fill and drain three glasses of water with only minimal spillage. Then, he set the glass down on the counter beside the sink and stood, leaning against the sink. He just stared absently at the words printed on the glass. "Embry, Indiana," it read. It had been a gift from Harry's niece Chloe.

"You hungry?" Perry asked when he noticed the moisture beginning to gather in the corners of his assistant's eyes. _Maybe I should call his family… later._

"I'd kill for a smoke," Harry complained, sounding the most normal he had since coming home.

"Not in the kitchen!" Perry crossed his arms. "I think you've got half a pack on the side table. Take it out on the terrace." The fresh ocean air and the sound of the waves ought to help Harry relax.

Harry was silent as he somewhat unsteadily followed his boss's instructions. _He's always quiet when I'm housetraining him_, Perry reminded himself. _In no time at all, he'll be babbling so much I'll forget I missed the noise._

Perry's mind froze momentarily at that thought. He had not fully realized it before, but the silence had been weighing on him as much as his worry.

_If Harry hadn't come back… _Perry shook off his morbid train of thought and set about preparing some breakfast. They both could use the energy. He turned the heat on under the kettle and put four slices of bread in the toaster. As he waited on both, he craned his neck to watch Harry.

The other man was sitting on the terrace and slipping on his favorite gray hoodie, which had been left out there for days. A lit cigarette was hanging from his mouth. Once he had made himself apparently comfortable, he leaned back and took a long, slow drag. When he had finished, Perry could actually see Harry's shoulders move up and down in an enormous sigh.

The toast popped up in the toaster, startling Perry. He stacked all of the slices on one plate. Then, he took a jar of marmalade from the refrigerator, but he hesitated before spreading any on the toast. Instead, he put some in a small dish and placed that on the plate with the toast and a spoon.

By that time, the water had come close enough to a boil for tea. Perry grabbed two mugs and two tea bags of a lemon and lavender blend. A hint of a smile ghosted his face as he thought of how Harry still refused to admit he enjoyed the "gay" beverage.

With the plate in one hand and the handles of both mugs in the other, Perry made his way to the terrace door. He tapped it with his foot. "Open," he said when Harry turned to face him. The other man complied.

"I'm not hungry," Harry said, eying the toast and marmalade as he closed the door. He had already lit a second cigarette.

"Tough shit. You're eating." Perry arranged the dishes on the small table that sat between the two deck chairs. Ignoring the smaller man's protests, he shifted the backs of both chairs until they were nearly upright. "You can manage dry toast and herbal tea."

"I don't want anything."

"Did it sound like an offer?" Perry took the cigarette out of Harry's hand, rested it on the lip of the ashtray, and placed a piece of toast in the now open hand. "Eat. That's an order." Perry was unsure as to whether or not it was a good idea, but he used his most commanding voice – the one Harry found scary enough to obey even when he was angry.

With only the smallest of frowns, Harry obediently moved the toast to his mouth and began eating slowly. Keeping watch on the smaller man out of the corner of his eye, Perry took a piece of toast for himself and liberally garnished it with marmalade.

They ate their toast and drank their tea in silence, the sound of the Pacific and the cries of gulls providing soothing background music. The sun slowly rose over the Hollywood hills and its light glinting off the waves mesmerized both men.

Perry was pulled out of his reverie by a waft of smoke. He looked over at Harry, who had resumed smoking what was left of his cigarette, and confirmed that the man had finished his toast and tea.

"I think I need a shower," Harry said suddenly, scratching vigorously at his head with his free hand.

"There's no 'think' about it." Just looking at Harry's hair gave Perry a psychosomatic itch. "But let me in there first. I need to relieve myself."

"Can't you just say 'take a leak' or 'piss?'"

"No, I can't," Perry replied with a smirk. "Now, put out that cigarette and go find something decent to wear."

"Right."

Perry cleaned up their breakfast while Harry stubbed out his cigarette and made his slow way upstairs. With a sigh at the mess, Perry set the dirty dishes in the sink and headed for the bathroom. The needs of his bladder were not particularly strong at that moment, but he had another reason for wanting in there ahead of Harry. Instead of the toilet, he went straight to the medicine cabinet as soon as he had locked the door behind him. It mostly contained Perry's hair and skin care products, but there were a few prescription bottles in there, including the Seconal. Perry pocketed the Seconal, but left the others – some antibiotics and beta blockers – where they were.

Guilt – this time at the mistrust – again unpleasantly tickled Perry's stomach. _It has to be done, _he reminded himself as he quickly did what he was supposed to be doing, flushed, washed his hands, and went back out.

"OK, Chief, all yours." Perry watched Harry make his shaky way into the bathroom with a stack of clean clothes. "Keep a hold on the towel rack and don't be too long."

Harry nodded, then closed the door. Perry heard the shower begin running.

_Is he going to be all right in there?_ He was not sure that Harry had enough strength to shower. Perry did not dare move too far from the bathroom. He slumped tiredly against the wall beside the bathroom door, the pills rattling in his pocket. He took the bottle out and eyed the contents through the translucent orange plastic. There were only two pills left in it. _Probably for the best._

"Fuck." Perry hated this uncertainty. He was used to knowing exactly what to do. Not knowing was… uncomfortable, to say the least. All his earlier questions resumed clamoring in his brain with no more answers to them than before. "Fuckity fuck."

_Work,_ Perry decided. There were some bad guys that needed catching. And punishing. Hopefully, the business would give Harry a reassuring sense of normality.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft thump from the bathroom. "Harry?" he called. There was no answer. "Shit." Perry reached for the doorknob and turned. Thankfully, Harry had neglected to lock it. "You OK in there Chief?"

"I don't know." Harry's voice was soft, but it did not sound pained or frightened.

"Harry?" Perry slid the shower door open a crack and peered inside. Harry was sitting on the floor of the shower with his knees hugged against his chest and his head tipped back, mouth open. His eyes were closed as he just sat there with the hot water flowing onto his face and into his mouth. Perry put a hand into the stream and then quickly went to turn the water off – it was nearly unbearably hot. Whatever of Harry's skin that was unbruised was now red from the heat. "What are you doing?" He had not meant for his voice to come out that sharp.

"I don't know. It felt good. Warm and clean."

Confused and unnerved, Perry had no response. He simply grabbed a towel from the rack and began to lightly towel his assistant dry.

"I'm not a baby, Perry," Harry complained, turning to meet his boss's eyes.

"You could have fooled me." Perry helped the other man to his feet and handed him the towel. "Can you manage?"

"Yes, Mom. Now get the fuck out of here."

Feeling his lips pulled into a genuine smile, Perry left the bathroom and went down to wait for Harry in the office.

Harry soon came down the stairs, dressed in sweats, T-shirt, and hoodie. Perry summoned him over to his desk. "Sit." Harry sat in the chair opposite Perry and looked at the larger man quizzically. "It's time to get to work."

"It is?"

"Yes. Your report is overdue."

"R-report?"

"I need to know what you found out on your last night of undercover work."

Harry squirmed in his chair and ran a hand through his still-damp hair. "Right now?"

Perry looked at him directly. "Yes, we've already lost a lot of valuable time. The clients won't be patient much longer."

"I… I don't really remember much…"

"Harry," Perry reached across the desk and put a finger under Harry's chin. The smaller man flinched away. Perry dropped the hand. "Chief. We need to get the bad guys before they get away." He kept his tone soft, but serious. "If you can remember anything – a name, a place – then I can call the police and this will all be over."

"I… I can't." Harry was trembling again.

"Yes, you can. It's your job. Now, take a deep breath, and tell me about that night."

Harry hissed in a deep breath and expelled it sharply. "I went to a club. The Rainbow Connection. I… I started talking to this guy. He looked like a Goth Bruce Willis, but he seemed friendly. He bought me a drink and just like you said, I made sure to watch the bartender make it and the guy bring it to me. He was watching me, so I drank and it was really strong. Anyway, I told him my cover story and he told me he thought maybe he could help…" Harry stopped and bit his lower lip.

"What happened then?"

Harry just shook his head. His trembling was becoming more pronounced and sweat began to bead his forehead.

"Harry." Perry left his chair and moved to crouch in front of the other, though he was careful not to touch the shaking man. "What happened next?"

"He pulled out a pill and told me about Sirens. 'It'll make everything nice and easy, sweet and smooth,' he said. I told him I wasn't sure about taking drugs. He… he put the pill in his mouth then, and… he k-k-kissed me." Concern pulled Perry's face into a frown. Harry sounded afraid rather than disgusted. "He pushed the Siren into… into my…"

"OK. He forced you to take the pill. What happened next?"

"I p-pushed him away." The voice was so small and it quavered on the longer words. "He said he was s-sorry, and… And I wanted to do a good job." Harry's voice became stronger, but the tone was an apologetic whine. "I thought if I went with him, I could find out what we needed to know." He pulled his knees up onto the chair and hugged them to his chest. Tears began leaking from his eyes as he rocked back and forth.

Perry reached out a hand, then pulled it back. _Fuck, I screwed up. _"Chief—"

"I went outside with him, but he didn't take me to another club. He pulled me into an alley and he started to—and I tried to fight but you know I can't and I was starting to feel sick and I just felt so scared…"

Perry felt light-headed as the blood was drawn away from his face. _Fuck_, had Harry been raped after all?

Harry's eyes were wide and unfocused and he was shaking so hard that Perry reflexively reached out to keep him from falling out of the chair. Harry gripped Perry's forearms with sweaty hands and looked down into the crouching man's face. "I'm so scared, Perry. I need my medicine."

_Shit, I really fucked this up. _"No, Harry. You just need to calm down and take a deep breath." Perry felt far from calm himself.

Harry shook his head harder than ever and his trembling shook Perry as well. "I need something to make it all go away."

"There's nothing to be afraid of here, Harry."

"They'll find me. I need the Siren to keep them away. Please, please, please."

_Fucking Hell._ Harry was starting to get hysterical again. _Is this going to happen every time he gets frightened?_ The thought made Perry feel weak, inadequate. "Tell you what, Chief." Perry reluctantly pulled out the bottle of Seconal. Harry's eyes lit up when he saw it, but Perry just felt tired and ill. "I'll give you half a pill now. Wait—" He cut off Harry's incipient protest. "And I'll give you the other half after you finish giving me your report."

"But, I need the medicine."

"Then, you'd better tell me quickly. Now, go to the sofa."

With the promise of more drugs, Harry calmed marginally and he followed his boss's instructions. Perry went into the kitchen, took a knife from a drawer, and cut one of the remaining Seconal in half. He filled Harry's glass again and went to the living room.

Harry was sitting Indian-style on the couch, rocking back and forth rapidly in agitation. When Perry knelt down and handed him the first half of the pill, Harry quickly snatched it from his hand and only as an afterthought took the glass of water to wash it down. His hands were shaking so badly that a good portion of the water sloshed onto the sofa and Harry's clothes.

When Harry finished draining the glass, he handed back to Perry and let loose a long, shuddery breath. Perry set the glass on the coffee table and picked up the blanket that still lay on the floor. He wrapped gently around the smaller man, who promptly clutched the edges around him as he slumped bonelessly against the back of the sofa. His breathing had already slowed and the panicky wideness of his eyes had diminished.

_That was way too fast to be the drugs,_ Perry thought, unsure if he should be reassured or not. "You remember the deal?" Harry nodded. "Can you talk?" Another nod. "What happened after the man took you outside?"

"He pushed me against a wall. His mouth and hands were everywhere. I felt so sick and I couldn't fight. He told me he liked the stupid ones and he was gonna fuck me so hard I'd feel it for weeks." Perry once again had to fight to keep his rage from boiling over. The anger could wait, Harry couldn't. "I didn't know what to do. So, when he let go of a hand, I stuck my finger down my throat and I threw up on the asshole." _Good boy. _"He got pissed off and started hitting me, but he let me go. I ran." Harry's eyes were unfocused and his voice was detached, as if it had all happened long ago and far away to some stranger. "I ran until I found another club. I ran inside and that fucking song was playing." Harry hummed a snatch of the song that he had been singing the previous night. "I tried to find the bathroom 'cause I was gonna be sick again. But it was the wrong door…" Harry trailed off.

The tiniest bit of tension eased out of Perry's shoulders. _He escaped from _that_, at least._ "What was behind the door?"

"The White Rabbit."

_Fuck, here we go again. _"What did he look like?"

"He had white hair, weird clothes, and a pocket watch. He started shouting at some big guys for not locking the door."

"Anything else?"

"There was a shitload of money on the table. And an open door. Looked like a science lab on the other side."

"What happened then?"

"The White Rabbit said to get rid of me before… someone came. One of the big guys sucker punched me and the other grabbed me. The White Rabbit laughed then, and said they could always use another guinea pig…"

That was good news, in its way. The bad guys had no idea who Harry was – he had just been a guy in the wrong place at the wrong time. _But those sick bastards decided to abuse Harry for just that reason._

Perry needed something – anything – that could help him find these assholes. "Can you remember anything else?"

"They hit me on the head. Fucking hurt."

"Yeah, that would hurt. Any other little bit? Anything at all? A name?"

Harry's brows knit as he apparently racked his drug-addled brain. "The big guys' T-shirts… There was something written on them…" He rapped his knuckles against his temples. "The Rabbit Hole! The shirts said 'The Rabbit Hole' on them." Harry's eyes refocused on Perry with an expectant look.

"Yeah, Chief, you get the other half now." Harry beamed at his boss then. Perry faked a smile back, but his eyes were stinging. He watched Harry down the Seconal and then he stood up. "Get some more sleep."

Harry grabbed his hand then. "Stay with me."

"I'm just going to be in the office."

"I don't want to be alone." His wide eyes gazed up at Perry, their expression rather like that of an abandoned puppy that Perry had found as a child.

Perry could no more refuse now than he had been able to then. "Where do you want me?"

Harry patted the cushion that was between him and the arm of the sofa. Perry sat there and Harry promptly curled up beside the larger man with his head in Perry's lap. "Used to do this with m' brother… a long time ago… Feels good." It was only when Harry said this that Perry realized his hand had already begun stroking the sleepy man's hair.

Continuing the caresses, Perry questioned his employee softly, "Harry? There's something I've just started to wonder…" He had been so glad that Harry was back and so distressed about the man's state that it occurred to him much later than it ought to have. "How did you get away?"

"There was another man… He said he liked me… Made a deal…" Harry frowned again. "Didn't like it… 'asted foul… but could go home…" Still frowning, Harry drifted into slumber.

_What the hell was that about? _Perry felt an unpleasant understanding, but he pushed it away. _Time to get to work._

Perry slowly eased himself out from under the sleeping man, exchanging a throw pillow for his lap. Harry barely stirred.

When the process was finished, Perry headed straight for his computer and woke it up. He swiftly opened his browser and searched "The Rabbit Hole West Hollywood."

"Even fucking drug dealers have a homepage nowadays." He clicked the link for the site and even before it had finished loading, an obnoxious song began playing. "_Ugh_. Trance." Perry frantically looked for the music plug-in on the page. He heard a soft moan behind him and then he recognized the song that Harry had been singing and humming before. He quickly clicked the sound icon on his toolbar and muted it. He turned around and looked at Harry, but the other man was thankfully still asleep. "This must be the place." Perry explored the page but there was not much there beyond dizzying dance floor images in a slide show and an address.

Not feeling up to a phone call, Perry rapidly typed up an email with the pertinent information and sent it off to his Hollywood PD contact with an urgent label. The man would arrange a surprise health or safety inspection for the Rabbit Hole and they would hopefully find something incriminating. They were bound, at least, to catch some thugs who would happily sell out their bosses for a commuted sentence.

Perry went back to the couch and carefully resumed his former position. There was no reason he should not catch up on a little sleep himself.

He placed one hand on the crown of Harry's head and with the other hand he gripped one of Harry's. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing slowly and evenly and he soon drifted off.

~to be continued~


	3. Part 3

Perry was awakened by the sound of 'I Will Survive' in glorious digital ringtone. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and blinked his eyes until they would focus on it. It was his contact in the Hollywood Police Department.

"Van Shrike," he answered the call.

"Good news, Perry. We got 'em." The man did not waste any words.

Perry glanced at his watch. "Damn, that was fast." It was a few minutes after three – less than six hours since he had sent the cop that email. "Not that I'm complaining."

"We've had a lot of drug-related crime in that area recently. The Chief was really coming down on Vice, so they jumped on your tip. Sent Health and Safety there and were conveniently on hand when the inspectors called to report illegal activity."

"Who have you got?"

"The owner of the club and apparent head of the operation. Fuck, but he is a strange one. And a couple of thugs who doubled as bouncers."

"That's good to hear." Perry sincerely hoped the men had resisted arrest. "You'll keep me posted?"

"As much as I can. Thanks for the tip."

"Anytime."

With no words of farewell between the two men, the call ended. Perry pocketed his phone again and looked down at the head in his lap. Harry was awake, but calm. He just lay there, looking up at Perry.

"Good news, Chief. The bad guys have been arrested. Our case is closed." The words gave Perry a stronger than usual sense of satisfaction. He only hoped that the prosecution would find enough charges to file against that fucking White Rabbit that the next thing he would get out of prison for would be his own burial.

"That's good," Harry murmured, though Perry was not sure the groggy man had understood properly.

"How are you feeling?"

"I don't know."

"Well, sit up and find out."

Harry sat up slowly. A shaft of early afternoon sunlight beamed in through an upper window and glowed on Harry's cheek. He held his hands out to the radiance and lightly clenched his fingers, as if trying to hold it. "I wanna go outside."

"Then go." Perry held his breath.

"I _am _going. Gimme a minute." Perry released the air in his lungs. Harry seemed to be fine with going out there alone. He slowly stood up and made his way to the sliding glass door. Perry was pleased to note that the man's steps were steadier than before.

"I'll be in the office doing the damned paperwork if you need me."

"Do you need me to help?"

_I don't need another breakdown. _"I don't think the clients speak moronic." Harry raised an eyebrow. "I don't need your help. Now go." Silently, Harry slid the door open and stepped outside. "Keep it open and close the screen, will you? The air's a bit stale in here."

Harry did as he was bid and then adjusted the back of a deck chair so that it leaned back more. Perry watched him sit down, light up a cigarette, and lean back, eyes apparently on the beach below. _There should be a few bikinis out. That ought to cheer him up._

With that hint of a pleasant thought, Perry stood up and went his desk. He repositioned his chair and his computer monitor so that he would have as clear and unobstructed a view of Harry as possible. He could not, however, watch his assistant and type his paperwork at the same time. He would have to trust the California sun and the Pacific to take care of Harry for a while.

_Sweet Jesus, this paperwork is going to be a nightmare._ Perry was going to have to communicate as many of the details as possible and make sure that the clients felt that Perry (and Harry) had succeeded in spite of great difficulty (which they had). Yet, at the same time, he could not let on that Harry had been missing, captive of the targets, for four days. It just did not sound professional.

Refraining from a sigh – _too many already today _– Perry set to work. It proceeded painstakingly slowly. Not only did Perry struggle uncharacteristically with the details, but he found it rather hard to focus on the task when his eyes inexorably moved to Harry every two minutes. The other man shifted constantly in his chair and maintained shorter than usual intervals between cigarettes, but he seemed fine. _Focus, van Shrike._

Perry further punctuated his attempt at paperwork by half-hourly forays to the terrace. "Drink," he would command, setting a glass of iced tea or water on the table. "Use it before you burn, idiot," he would gripe, dropping a bottle of sun block onto Harry's lap. "Eat," he would order his bemused housemate, placing a plate of cored and sliced apple on the table. Harry followed each of these instructions without complaint.

At around six, Perry finally finished his report. He would proofread it first thing the next morning and send it to the clients' representative. He moved to the kitchen and refilled the kettle before turning the burner on under it. While he waited, he decided to do something about the mess in the sink. He soaped up the sponge and went to work on three days' worth of dishes, vigorously scrubbing at hardened food stains. To each bit of grime, he tried to attach a memory from the last 72 hours. A coffee stain in a mug was an anxious sleepless night. A strand of pasta adhered to a plate represented Harry begging on his knees, tears in his eyes. And every last spot of grease or crusted food on a fork was the hateful feeling of helplessness that had beleaguered Perry ceaselessly from the moment he had discovered Harry's disappearance.

When the sink was at last clear of dirty dishes, the water had been boiling for some time. Perry switched it off and surveyed the spotless dishes drying on the rack. _Clean and normal._

Perry retrieved two of the mugs and made tea – Assam this time. He flipped the small sandglass he kept near the stove and set about wiping down the sink while the tea steeped. When the last grain of sand had dropped, he took the two cups and went to join Harry, who was still sitting in the chair on the terrace.

Harry started a bit when Perry slid the screen door open but he otherwise seemed fine. "Finished?" he asked as Perry sat down in the other chair.

"Nearly. I might have to go back and change a word here or there. Living with you has degraded my vocabulary."

"Are you sure that's a bad thing? Who else uses the word 'nonplussed' in conversation?"

Perry chuckled at that. When he saw a small, but genuine Harry Lockhart smile lift the corners of the other man's mouth, the laugh became deeper. "Shut up and drink your tea," he said, his cheerful tone at odds with the rude phrasing.

"Yes, boss."

The two men leaned back, watched the sun sink slowly toward the horizon, and drank their tea. Perry shifted his gaze to the beach and saw a group of children laughing as they ran to and away from the surf, dodging waves. He recalled his earlier thought.

"I was thinking," he began. Harry's eyes shifted to him. "It's been a while since you've seen your brother and his family."

"Yeah, I haven't seen them since the funeral back in January." Harry's gaze was wistful as he turned it back toward the Pacific. "Chloe told me she's grown half a foot since the last time I saw her."

"Well, why don't you invite them here for Thanksgiving?"

"Perry, your dining room is a detective's office."

"The kitchen table is big enough for four and a half. Besides, the last time your niece insisted on talking to me she bombarded me with questions about California and the beach."

"Marty's never been keen on air travel…" Perry could tell that the other man was warming up to the idea. "But Susan and Chloe have been begging him to bring them here."

"Right, it's settled then. You can call them tomorrow."

The conversation ended there. They finished their tea and watched the sky and ocean shade from gold to pink, then to mauve. When the twilight began to deepen further, Harry began to fidget in his seat with greater frequency. Perry glanced at the smaller man, and saw the precursors of fear on his face.

"Time to make dinner, Chief." He kept his tone light, with a hint of authority.

"I'm not that hungry."

"Neither am I, but we need to eat. Come on," he prodded, rising. "We can split a sandwich."

"Fine, but it's gonna be a _real_ sandwich, not something gay like a caprese or anything else with a French name."

"Caprese is Italian, idiot."

"Well whatever the fuck it is, it's not American."

"Fine. We'll have an 'American' sandwich, but no mustard."

Smiling, the two men went inside and to the kitchen. They made a good-sized ham, cheese, and tomato sandwich that Perry cut in half. The mood in the kitchen was light and companionable enough, but Perry was acutely aware of the silence. Harry did not look frightened or shaky, but he was never this quiet at dinner.

_He should be babbling me to a mental stupor with plans for Chloe's first visit to California. _Still, since Harry was eating with every indication of enjoyment and a hint of appetite, Perry let the silence continue.

They finished their meal and cleaned up with that same silence, broken only with the occasional instruction, question, or request.

"How're you feeling, Chief?" Was that the third time that Perry had asked that question today?

"Tired. Don't know why – I've slept or sat around for most of the da-ay." Harry punctuated the statement with a yawn.

"Well, I'm pretty beat myself. I was planning on calling it an early night. I've got to get up early tomorrow morning, anyway."

"But it's not even nine o'clock. My _grandmother_ doesn't go to bed this fucking early."

"Well, your grandmother has probably averaged more than two hours of sleep the last four nights." Perry regretted the comment immediately when he saw Harry's faint smile twist into a guilty expression.

"I'm sorry, Perry."

"Hey, I decide when it's your fault and when it's not. This time it's not your fault, so stop fucking apologizing."

"Sorry."

"Harry!"

"Sor… So, bedtime?"

"Yes, now go brush your teeth. Go." Perry made a dramatic shooing gesture. He tidied up and turned off lights in the living room and office as he waited for Harry to finish in the bathroom. The vigorous motions caused the Seconal, which was still in his pocket, to rattle, an unpleasant reminder of the day and an ominous warning of what the night ahead might hold.

"All done, Perry."

"OK. And Harry," the other man paused on the stairs and turned his head back. "It's OK if you want to keep the light on."

"Thanks," was the soft reply as Harry resumed his climb.

Perry went to the bathroom and closed himself inside. He looked at himself in the mirror and shuddered. He was in desperate need of a shower, but he was worried about how Harry would handle the night.

_Quick shower_, he decided. It went against his core sense of style, but Perry forwent his conditioner and his post-shower skin care routine. He also brushed his teeth with less care and precision than usual, so he exited the bathroom, clad in his bathrobe with the Seconal an undesirable bulge in its pocket, a record fifteen minutes after entering. He swiftly made his way upstairs and to Harry's bedroom.

Harry was not there. _Shit._ Perry turned to dash back down to search for him, but he was halted by the sound of his name being called. He followed the weak voice to his own room. Harry was perched on the edge of Perry's bed. His eyes were wide and his hands clutched the bedding so hard that his knuckles were white.

"I can't, Perry," he said before Perry could even start asking him what was wrong. "I just can't be in there alone." Perry's fears for the night were beginning to be realized in Harry's tremulous tone. "And I don't think I can sleep. Not without something to help."

"I can fix you a glass of warm milk." Perry forced sarcasm into his voice, though wit and humor were no part of his current mix of emotions. Stress and exhaustion piled on his overwhelming feeling of helplessness to create something as close to despair as the detective had ever felt before.

"You know that's not what I fucking meant!"

Perry took out the bottle of Seconal, opened it and shook the last pill into his hand. He held it up clearly for Harry, dropping the bottle onto the floor. "See this? It's the last one, Harry. If you take it, there won't be any more."

"We can get more. Or we can get something else. That doctor you fucked can get it for us."

"No, Harry. Not for us, not for you. You take this one last pill and that's it. Think about it Chief. You're just a bit nervous now, but what if you need it _more_ later? What will you do then?"

"I'll fucking get more myself!"

"And add possession to petty larceny in your record? I won't pull any strings for that, Harry."

"But if I don't have it when I sleep—"

"They were _arrested_ Harry!" Perry put the pill in his pocket, strode to the bed and gripped Harry's shoulders. "No one is going to come after you."

Harry looked up at Perry, his wide-eyed, fearful expression once again disturbingly childlike. "They'll come in my dreams if the Siren doesn't sing them away."

"_I'll_ fucking keep them away, then!" Perry knelt down and shifted his grip to a lighter hold on Harry's bruised arms. He looked straight into Harry's eyes. "I'll keep them away," he promised again, softly. "But I'm not fucking singing."

He released Harry and sat down beside him. Perry positioned himself so that he was leaned back against the pillows that were still piled up from the previous night's aborted slumber. He spared a glance for his bathrobe. _Fuck it,_ that was beyond unimportant right now.

"Come here," he said to Harry, who edged closer. "Do you remember how you felt when you went to sleep last night?" Harry nodded. "And this morning?" Another nod. "How did you feel?"

"Safer."

"That wasn't the fucking Siren or the Seconal, got it?" Perry pulled his unresisting companion closer still. "That was me." Harry began to shake his head at this. "No, Chief. It was _me_." Perry reached over to the nightstand and turned off the lamp. Light still flowed in the open bedroom door from the hallway. He pulled Harry against him so that the smaller man's head was pillowed on Perry's chest and his knees were curled against Perry's thigh. "Go to sleep now."

"What if I have a nightmare?"

Perry lightly wrapped his arms around Harry and began stroking his back with one hand. "Then you'll have a nightmare. Everybody does, some time or another." He felt Harry relax against him and move a hand to rest on the other side of Perry's chest. His fingers began to tap a steady rhythm which Perry eventually recognized as his own heartbeat. Perry began to hum softly.

"I thought you weren't gonna sing," Harry commented sleepily.

"I'm humming. Idiot." The epithet was an afterthought.

"'Dream a Little Dream of Me?'"

"My mom used to sing it. Now shut up and go to sleep."

Perry continued the stroking and the humming. He felt Harry curl up more closely against him and he looked into the other man's face. Harry was asleep, his breathing soft and even and his face free of any strain. Perry tightened his arms around Harry, hugging the sleeping man to him.

"We're going to get through this, Chief," he whispered, surprising himself with the confidence he felt in the words.

_We're going to get through this._

_**~THE END~**_

Thank you for reading.


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